Hands Up
by Assemble-the-Avengers
Summary: In which Bellamy teaches Clarke to fight and ends up shirtless. "Before Bellamy even had the chance to reset the drill, Clarke's hands were on his chest and he was backed up against the drop ship her mouth was slanted across his."


Bellamy knew it was early. He did know exactly how early, but he knew it was early. The sky was just barely turned grey with the not yet risen sun and he yet he didn't care. Didn't even hesitate as he marched across the camp to where Clarke's tent was pitched just outside the Ark, and snapped the fabric door aside. He felt a flash of guilt as she flinched and scrambled backwards blindly, eyes still bleary with sleep.

"Bellamy?" she called groggily, shoulders sagging in relief as she squinted at his figure in the entryway.

"You expecting someone, Princess?" he replied mercilessly. She flinched at that because they both knew she was half expecting Finn to show up any time now. Hell, that's what _Bellamy _expected; that was why he was here in the first place.

"What is it, Bellamy?" she sighed, twisting her hands into the fabric of her pants.

"Come with me." He answered lowly, tossing his jacket into her lap because the stupid princess had given her jacket to one of the more unprepared children who'd come down in the Ark and it was too cold for the scrap of a shirt she'd picked up god knows where.

She regarded him warily even as she slipped her arms into the jacket and picked herself up off the ground, following one of the few people she trusted through Camp Jaha.

Bellamy only stopped when they reached the covered and hidden cove where Raven had snuck them out of camp weeks ago. And when he stopped, it was so suddenly that Clarke slammed into his chest as he turned. Bellamy chuckled and put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her and pushing her back enough for her to be able to look up at him.

"Bellamy," she sighed warily, looking around. "What're we doing here?" she asked tiredly. And he almost felt bad for waking her up. Almost.

"Hit me." He responded, voice nonchalant and gravelly from the little sleep he'd gotten.

"What?" she scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him like he was losing his mind. And maybe he was.

"Hit me." He repeated. "I can't sleep. And it's because of you." He growled. Clarke's lips parted in preparation to protest but Bellamy spoke again before she got the chance. "I can't sleep knowing you can't protect yourself against Spacewalker." The name was almost snarled through his gritted teeth. Gunfire and screams echoed in Clarke's ears at the name of her murderous admirer. "So hit me, damn it." He hissed.

He looked genuinely worried and exhausted and it was her fault. The grey tones of the sky weren't helping as far as the dark circles under his eyes went.

Clarke regarded him carefully before exhaling softly and throwing her fist into his gut with a surprising amount of precision and strength. Bellamy's lips twitched a miniscule smile and he nodded at her. "Not bad." He praised. Clarke huffed a sarcastic laugh. "Again."

"Bellamy," she warned, frowning.

"You can't hurt me, Princess. I was trained to take hits." He assured her, absentmindedly reaching forward to brush a blonde strand of hair off her forehead. Her breath caught at that small gesture. "Don't worry about me. Again." He repeated. So she hit him again and he nodded like he had the first time but this time he looked her up and down, before grabbing her hip with one hand and nudging her legs further apart with his foot. He pushed on her hip until she was forced to step back with that foot.

"Hey!" she protested as she nearly lost her balance. But she didn't. And that much she owed to the firm hand he had planted on her waist.

"Bend your knees." He said. She did. "And keep your hands up. Never drop your hands. Can't have our princess messing up her beautiful face." He smirked, taking both her loose fists in his hands. Clarke had never been more grateful for cloudy grey mornings than she was now because that was the only reason he couldn't see the blush coloring her cheeks at the so very nonchalant way he'd called her beautiful, like it was just a widely known fact. "Don't close your fists till the split second before you land the hit. Try again." He said, setting his own feet like he'd told her to, clenching his abdominal muscles just as her fist landed in his solar plexus. He grinned at her and she arched an eyebrow at him.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing." He shook his head and reset his stance, motioning for her to do the same. "Put your weight behind it, Princess. Just because you're tiny doesn't mean you don't have muscle to put behind it, let's go." The hit she landed forced him to exhale the next time and his smile was steadily growing. "Keep your wrists straight, again." _Thud. _"Don't tuck your thumb in_." Thud. _"Head up." _Thud. Slam. _Bellamy smirked proudly as his back slammed into the metal wall of the drop ship.

"How was that?" Clarke crossed her arms, panting slightly and looking up at Bellamy through her eyelashes and hair.

"Not half bad Princess. Not half bad." He grinned. She scoffed. "Blocking," he prefaced, smirking as she focused on him even as she peeled his jacket off and tossed it onto one of the beams around them. "I'll punch in, don't get it."

"That's informative." She muttered sarcastically but nodded and glanced down at her feet to double check her stance before looking up to check their surroundings.

There was fog settling in the forest outside the gate, making only the nearest trees visible while those further away were shrouded in the blue-grey of the early morning fog. And that made her nervous. Bellamy's smile faded a little when he glanced back over his shoulder to see the same thing.

"Gate's electrified. Stay focused." He said gently. She nodded and focused on him again, raising her hands up to cover her face like he'd said. "If I'm going for your solar plexus and I get past the block, tense up just before I hit you, and breathe out when I do. Got it?" she nodded sharply and Bellamy punched in without much warning. Clarke's arm circled up and in front of her chest, knocking his fist off its previous track. "Damn, Princess." He muttered under his breath as his proud smirk grew back. He punched in again, high this time, aiming for her face. Her arm shot up so that his fist collided with the soft flesh of her forearm. "Good. Hands up, don't drop them, keep your feet moving, harder to hit a moving target, _there we go." _He praised as she ducked his fist. He _didn't _count on her landing her own in his stomach. He hadn't expected it in the slightest and his breath left his lungs sharply.

"Oh," she frowned, dropping her hands and straightening her posture as he doubled over. "Are you alright?" she questioned, eyebrows knitting together in concern. He nodded quickly and straightened up with a slight grimace.

"That was good, Clarke. Really good." He assured her at her still worried look.

"You're a good teacher." She shrugged. He smiled softly at her and turned away, grabbing for the hem of his shirt before pulling it off over his head, tossing it on top of his discarded jacket.

God_damn that boy. _

Then he turned around and ran his hand back through his slightly sweaty curls and- _oh dear god he was doing it on purpose, that arrogant ass. _

"You alright there, Princess?" he smirked.

_Mouth closed. Mouth closed. Mouth closed. _

"Ass." She scowled. He just bit his lip in a pathetic attempt to hide his smirk. Bellamy followed her movements as she reached up and tied her hair up in a sloppy pony tail with a breaking hair tie her mom had handed her during a particularly difficult surgery the day before. "Ready." She nodded.

"Put your arms around me." He instructed, eyes dead serious, no hint of teasing which was enough to prompt Clarke's compliance. "Don't let go." He instructed. She nodded and he felt the loose strands of hair brushing against his shoulder blades. He felt her arms tighten more until his arms were sufficiently pinned to his sides and nodded. "Good."

Then his arms jerked up, forcing her arms further up his bare torso, then his leg wrapped around the back of hers, and knocked her off balance. He gripped wrists as he fell first, pulling them over his head before he hit the ground. She followed not too long after, landing half on him. Bellamy flipped his body and pinned her wrists over her head, hovering over her body.

Their breathing picked up at the close proximity and all Clarke could see was his eyes and she could feel every contour of every muscle against her stomach and-

"Got it?" he asked breathlessly. Clarke had to blink a few times to focus on the words coming out of his mouth and not his moving lips that were too close to hers.

"Yeah." She said hoarsely. He searched her face for something – she didn't know what – before pushing up off the ground and pulling Clarke up with him. He used his grip on her wrist to tug her backwards against his chest before wrapping his bare, muscled arms around her arms, pinning them to her sides. The memory of what he had shown her was slowly being clouded by the close contact and Clarke couldn't focus.

"Arms up." He murmured against her neck. Clarke shuddered in his arms and he didn't even have it in him to smirk because he was fighting a losing battle here. She lifted her arms up like he had, elbows bent at ninety degree angles. His mouth shifted down the curve of her neck and settled on her shoulder. "Leg behind mine." He murmured. Her hands curled into fists as she obeyed, then knocked him off balance and fell to the ground beside him.

"I don't think that was right." She muttered breathlessly, as he rolled over and hovered over her again. He shook his head, face devoid of the smile that'd been there for most of the morning. "I should try again." He nodded and they got to their feet again.

Before Bellamy even had the chance to reset the drill, Clarke's hands were on his chest and he was backed up against the drop ship her mouth was slanted across his.

His hands gripped at her waist, an attempt to drag her closer when they were already chest to chest, legs entwined.

"Finally." A voice grumbled from off to their right.

"Octavia, I swear-" Bellamy snarled without releasing Clarke as he leaned his head back against the Ark.

"I'm going, I'm going. Don't stop on my account. I'll just…tell the Chancellor you're…busy." She chuckled. Bellamy groaned as Clarke laughed softly before she kissed him again.

**review:) review with prompts if there's any Bellarke prompts you'd like me to write. **


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